


Sailor's Foresight

by messier51



Series: A Sailor's Tail [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beaches, Creature Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Drowning, Happy Ending, M/M, Rum, Sailboat Impala, Sailing, fix-it for the first part in the series, mermaid Castiel, mermaid au, merman cas, tortola
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier51/pseuds/messier51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean slowly recovers from almost drowning, and now he's stuck in the middle of the Atlantic ocean on a boat with a monster who might have tried to kill him. </p>
<p>On the other hand, Castiel pulled him back aboard and saved his life. But why would Cas rescue him? And do they have enough space on the tiny sailboat to be honest with each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailor's Foresight

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this series (Sailor's Folly) was written as a standalone piece with a sad ending--implied major character death. After all, why wouldn't Castiel want to take Dean home as a prize? The small matter of breathing underwater, that's just a pesky thing. So that part can be read alone. This part is a sort of everyone lives AU sequel for the first part, because when I asked myself the question "but if you could fix it, how would that work?" and I couldn't leave it alone. 
> 
> You do need to read Sailor's Folly in order to understand what's going on in this story, but you can ignore the MCD warning if you plan to read this one as well!
> 
> Thanks to s-cornelius, captainawesomeellie, and ceeainthereforthat for your superior suggestions and beta brilliance. 
> 
> And thanks again to CT who inspired Sailor's Folly in the first place with her amazing art. (CT, this is probably the story you deserved in the first place, but you let me write MCD, so I hope you like this one too.)

 

Dean stands with Sam on the pier and watches Cas walk away. Sam gives him a look.

“What?”

“He saved your bacon and you’re just going to watch him walk away like that?” Sam asks.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

Dean tries not to focus on the sight of Cas’ retreating back. On his shoulders, as they sink. He’s disoriented for a moment when he realizes that he probably won’t ever see Cas again.

Which is probably for the best.

But things hadn’t been so bad. Cas could have left anytime, but he’d waited until the last possible moment...

Sam’s voice cuts into Dean’s thoughts, but none of the sounds resolve into words.

♒♒♒

Dean woke up hazy and cold, but wrapped in blankets and tucked into his berth on his boat.

Dean hoped like hell that the images of Cas swimming around his head were just a product of fever dreams. The fishtail Cas sported had easily surpassed all his other fantasies for the title of “weirdest.” No matter how real the memories feel in his head though, it would be even more impossible for both of them to have gotten back onto the boat after being in the ocean. One man overboard is hard to fix: all crew in the drink is a death sentence. And there he was, with the Impala’s solid walls all around him--even if the rest of the world was spinning sideways.

Cas came in with a thermos in hand. Compared to the confident actions Dean was used to seeing now, Cas’ gait was tentative and he practically tripped over his own feet. It reminded Dean of the strange man who approached the harbor back in Florida. But they weren’t in Florida anymore. _And maybe Cas wasn’t even human_ , Dean’s brain supplied unhelpfully.

Cas put chilly fingers to Dean’s forehead after handing off a thermos of warm chicken broth.

“Your fever’s gone down. How do you feel?”

“Awful,” Dean replied, honestly. “How’s my boat?”

Cas smiled. “Everything is in order. I’ll put out the parachute anchor if I have any trouble. I haven’t had any trouble though,” Cas said, and allowed himself to look a bit proud. “If there’s anything else I can do...”

Cas’ smile disappeared. Dean searched his face for something--anything--with no luck. It was completely unreadable. Dean just shook his head.

“You should get some more sleep if you can.”

Dean finished his broth and let himself do just that. And he let himself believe that it had all been just a dream.

When he woke next, Dean felt well enough to crawl out of bed. On deck he let the salty air and sun soak into his clammy skin. It made him feel almost whole. The sight of Cas fighting the mainsail brought a smile to his face.

“The wind disappeared.”

“It does that. You want to ease a bit off the halyard--not lots, yeah. If you watch the water, you might see a bigger gust we could take advantage of, but I wouldn’t count on it here. And don’t make any quick turns or anything, we’ll lose what little momentum we’ve got--what I wouldn't give to check the forecast. You don't have any clue where we are, by any chance?”

“Your equipment is working again, I sang the curse away. Luckily the reversal doesn’t require as many voices. As far as I can tell, we’re on course.”

Dean's throat dropped into his stomach.

He couldn’t ask, though. It was too much.

Instead, he stumbled to his equipment, and checked each in turn. GPS showed them northwest of where Dean would have guessed, but he’d been farther off course before. His phone, Iridium Go, compass--everything was fine. And if the weather reports were accurate, it wouldn’t take more than few days to hit the British Virgin Islands.

With the feeling of reassurance, a wave of exhaustion slammed into Dean full force. Strange singing voices grasped at the edges of his memories. The harder he tried to focus, the dizzier he got. A clattering thud brought footsteps, but only after he felt Cas’ hand on his wrist did Dean realize that the loud noise had been himself hitting the floor.

“Don’t-” Dean said, and pulled away from Cas’ touch. As he righted himself, the world shifted axes again and Dean reached out for support that wasn’t there.

Cas’ strong and steady grip pulled Dean up and guided him back into his mattress. As Dean’s consciousness detached, Cas left a few quiet words in it’s wake.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Dean didn’t care.

Dean woke up half hard and gasping for air. The echoes of his dream, or nightmare really, began fading with deep breaths of cool air. He'd had Cas’ dick in his mouth, which had been the fun part. It hadn't phased him when it turned into a fishtail, he'd been so captured by Cas’ eyes that the cut of fins and scales of his mouth and throat hadn't registered. He hadn't really noticed anything out of place in the dream-turned-horror until it had been salt water filling his mouth, and his throat, and his lungs.

Dean stumbled around the dimly lit cabin to empty the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet, and tried to think of anything else. Powdered Gatorade mix, a couple of stale crackers. Breakfast of champions.

“You look tired,” Dean told Castiel, _his magical mermaid-man passenger_ , in the early morning twilight.

“I’m fine,” was the terse response he got.

The one time he got mad at Dad he’d learned that next time, he should wait until land to have it out. No matter the outcome, they’d still be stuck in a tiny shared space. Or they might end up overboard, which ends worse for Dean than Cas, who had _gills_. The sense of betrayal he felt was his own damn fault; he got too close. Better to keep his distance, and get through the next few days peacefully as possible.

“What about you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine too.”

A brief gust of wind set both of them to avoiding the boom, and Dean slowly brought the Impala around to take advantage of the tiny amount of wind. For the first time since they’d set sail, Dean felt like Castiel was in his way--reaching for the wrong line, taking up too much space on his boat.

“You hired me to sail a boat, not to get sick,” Dean said, hoping Castiel would take the hint: _stay out of my way_.

“It’s not your fault, Dean. You got sick because you almost drowned.” He sat on the bench while Dean did a closer inspection of the lines and riggings. “That doesn’t make you a bad sailor.”

“I didn’t just _almost drown_ though, did I? I practically got keelhauled by a mermaid. Until you what, changed your mind, and decided to save me instead?” Dean’s voice stays level, disconnected from his confusion.

“My brothers tied you up and took you. They thought it would be good fun, at my expense. It's not a hard spell to give a human the ability to breathe underwater, although they still panic. My brothers found it entertaining." Cas frowned. "The way Michael was looking at you, I expect he wanted you for his own. He likes pretty things... And doesn't like to share. But you're protected."

"They sound like fun," Dean said.

"I don't think you would have enjoyed it. But they couldn't make the spell work on you.”

"So. I'm not a good enough souvenir to bring home for your brothers to play with, but why bother with me? You were almost home. People get lost at sea every day."

"You would never have been a souvenir for _Michael_ ," Cas growled. Dean swallowed hard and noted how Cas' eyes followed the lump in his throat. _Not wanting to share_ seemed like it wasn’t just a Michael thing.

“But it would have been okay if your spells worked?”

“You’re angry at me.”

“No,” _just disappointed in myself--_ he thought, but said aloud: “You paid me to bring you out here, and I’ve gotten banged up worse than this before. It’s none of my business unless it threatens my boat again. You signed a contract, you’re on the hook for damages.”

Cas grimaced, but Dean thought it might be more at his choice of fishing imagery than at the thought of being responsible for anything.

Dean didn’t care. Dean told himself he didn’t care, at least.

“Get some sleep,” Dean told him, with as much finality as he could muster. He ran the motor to augment their sailing speed in the low wind. _Attempted murder_ was probably good enough reason for breach of contract--Castiel’s request that they make the trip fully under windpower didn’t matter anymore. The small rebellion bolstered his spirits, and he sank into the comfort of properly functioning devices. He ran out of energy before picking up a satellite signal though, and set the autopilot before wordlessly waking Cas and crawling back into oblivion. He hoped he was too exhausted for dreams this time.

* * *

 

Dean pushed down the guilt of sleeping too long as he mopped down his face and brushed his teeth. He acknowledged Castiel’s presence when he went up to reassure himself that nothing had changed, that everything was still alright. Just a small nod, no more than that. Cas’ eyes burned holes into the back of his head as he went about his business.

He finally got a signal on his Iridium Go, but no response from his brother. He took a deep breath, and scrolled through his contact list. Charlie was his next call, and she answered.

“Sam is worried sick! He’ll be so happy to hear you’re okay. Him and Jo and Garth, they rented a motorboat and took off towards where he’d heard from you last, it’s no wonder you can’t get a hold of him. I’ll get a message to him, let him know you’re alive.”

“Thanks Charlie, you’re the best.”

“Damn right. Call back when you can, I’ll keep you updated.”

And everything had been (mostly) okay.

Like the last time he’d been awake, Dean methodically checked over each and every line. He expanded his checks to every inch of the boat--all of the things he hadn’t had the energy to deal with in his convalescence. _Everything ship shape?_ had always been the question Dad asked. Sam and Dean had giggled when they’d been small, and Dean had scoffed at the question when he’d decided he was too old for childish jokes. He wondered if Cas was familiar with the idiom, or would see the humor in it, before squashing the question. 

It rankled at Dean that he’d trusted Castiel so fully. He’d never… there was no one, except Sam, that he’d felt so at ease with. And it had all been lies. When he thought about it, Dean was sure the strange blackouts he’d experienced before his dip in the ocean were related to Castiel’s machinations. Hell if he was going to ask about it, though.

He avoided Castiel for the day-and-a-half it took for them to reach the British Virgin Islands, where they could finally part ways, and Dean would be free.

When they pulled up to the island, Dean explained the customs procedures to Cas, who seemed to listen, but the conversation was entirely one-sided until Dean chased down his fear--they were in the harbor, there were people around. Now or never.

"So what happens now?" Dean asked as he raised the quarantine flag.

"I don't know. There are stories of others who've... left, but I never intended to. I don't know," Cas said, his features smoothing out from worry to awe. "Isn't that amazing?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, nonplussed.

Another thought occurred to Dean; “So I was never getting the $600 a day in the contract, was I.”

Cas looked up, doleful. “The $12,000 I gave you was the entirety of my savings. Everything else I have is--” Cas held up the small bag in his lap. Dean knew its contents--exactly what Dean instructed him to bring along. No more, no less.

“How will you survive without anything? Without anyone?”

“I'm not that incompetent. And I have friends, I did have a job before, if you recall,” Cas said, obstinate for the first time.

Dean sighed. He didn’t know why he tried so hard to carry on conversation. “Right, my bad. You'll be great,” he said, injecting false enthusiasm into his words.

When the customs agent interrupted them, it was a blessing. She graciously allowed Castiel to hitch a ride with her to Tortola, and Dean replaced the yellow Q flag with his BVI courtesy flag.

Finally alone. Dean could try to get Sam again, or he could take advantage of hot showers and fresh food. Too exhausted to accomplish any of that, Dean passed out listening to the waves against the Impala’s hull.

Dean spent half an hour opening and closing cabinets, not really sure what he was looking for--and certainly not finding it--before he gave up and got dressed for a day on shore. He found a tiny cafe with wi-fi marginally better than his satellite phone connection. He let his phone sync, and browsed slowly through the past few days’ feed on his Facebook while he put a dent in a pretty decent cup of coffee.

The first post that caught his eye was one of Charlie’s, “ _Dean’s safe, will keep you updated.”_ She and Sam had let _everyone_ know about Dean. His food’s arrival saved him from helplessly reading every response they’d gotten.

Dean looked at the clock on his phone, still set to home. The one hour difference meant it was eight a.m. in Florida, but on a Saturday morning Charlie might not be up yet. He punched off an email to let her know he was on solid ground. He would try calling later when he could ask about Sam.

Dean picked at his cooling food with very little appetite left. He forced himself to eat everything.

It was stupid that, of all things, Facebook would make anything feel more _real_. He’d survived, but Sam had gone out to sea after him. And what would have happened if Sam had been lost too? Or on account of Dean? The thought churned in his stomach with the food he’d forced down, and he glared down at the lone pastry left on his plate, willing himself to want to eat it.

An email alert popped up on Dean’s phone. “ _Call now!”_ was all it said.

“Hi Charlie,” Dean said, keeping his voice steady.

“Dean, good, you got my message.” Charlie sounded tired.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, that’s your brother’s fault. They got in really early this morning, and he came straight here. We figured we’d hear quicker from you if we’re both in the same place. You want me to wake him up?”

“Nah, he probably needs the sleep.”

“He said he got a few hours on the ride back.”

“Yeah, sure he did. Let him sleep.”

“What about you?” Charlie asked, and Dean cringed at the sound of a coffee grinder behind her. “Sorry, that was loud.”

“I slept like a baby last night. And I got myself a decent breakfast--think I’m going to explore the town today.”

“I’m booking Sam a flight for tomorrow night,” Charlie said, and hurtled into an explanation like Dean might object at any point, “I convinced him to wait a day, but he’s really worried about you. He said he’d help you get everything worked out for your trip back, and probably sail back with you.” Charlie stopped to take a deep breath. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but it made him feel calmer. With Sam there, everything would work out fine, and he wouldn’t have to look for a charter or pay anyone as crew for the trip back, which seemed too overwhelming at the moment to take on solo.

“It _is_ a good idea. But don’t tell him I said that okay?”

Charlie let out a short, breathy laugh. “Okay.”

They were both silent for a moment, though Dean thought he might have heard Charlie set a coffee mug onto a counter. He didn’t want to hang up yet, but he didn’t want Charlie to ask what had happened. Not yet. Maybe he’d be able to talk about it later…but not yet.

Maybe she knew that too, because when she spoke, she caught Dean by surprise.

“Do you remember when my mom… when I told you about the night my parents...uhh...”

“Yeah,” Dean said belatedly. He shook his head, trying to figure out where Charlie was going with this.

“Before they found my parents, I would have done anything to get them back. And I even after I found out, I tried to explain to people how it wasn’t possible. _They were good drivers, you know? There’s no way they could’ve been in an accident. They were careful._ When you disappeared, Sam told me, ‘ _Dean’s good at sailing, he never gets lost. He’s very careful.’_ And it was like, I saw my twelve-year-old self standing in front of me as a grown up man. Which is kinda weird, y’know?”

Dean closed his eyes and let Charlie’s words soak into him. The caffeine must be working its magic.

“I would’ve gone out after you too, so don’t yell at him for that okay? He’s doing his best. I’m jealous that he had the ability to go out and _do something_ about it when you were missing. And Dean? I’m really glad you’re alive.”

“Me too, Charlie. Me too.”

“Okay, I’m gonna hang up on you. Take care of yourself, you big oaf.”

“Yeah yeah, I love you too Charlie.”

“I know,” she said smugly.

Dean snorted, and hung up before Charlie could. He felt a lot calmer though, and took the offensive pastry from his plate to eat as he walked around the stalls set up to relieve tourists of their money set up near Rhymer’s beach. He kept half an eye out for something kitschy to bring back for Charlie, who was going out of her way to take care of both him and Sam. It wouldn’t be enough, but she’d understand anyway.

In the gift shop of a fancy hotel, Dean found himself staring at a blue-eyed mermaid statuette holding a sign over her otherwise-naked torso proclaiming the name of the hotel. He shook his head--she didn’t even look like Castiel. She had long, curly blond hair, and her tail wasn’t nearly long enough.

Dean pulled his hand back and looked around to see if anyone was watching him. He picked up a bottle opener magnet and paid for it, feeling guilty about loitering in the store like a weirdo.

“Hey,” he asked the kid behind the counter, “what’s the best place around here to get a drink?”

They looked up at him through thick bangs, and said, “Uhhh… we got a bar here? You could check out the [Callwood Distillery](http://www.rumtherapy.com/2013/08/callwood-rum-distillery-tortola/) though. Here--” the kid turned around and pulled out a little map, “it’s over here. If you buy a bottle of rum, they’ll give you a tour for free.”

Dean thanked the kid and stuck the map and the bottle opener in his pocket.

Back outside, he reached for the sunglasses he usually kept strapped to his head and cursed when they weren’t there. He could go back in and get a pair of cheap ones-- “Whatever,” he muttered, and tried to follow the directions to the distillery.

It wasn’t too far, and he got a few bottles of rum with the promise that it wouldn’t leave him hungover in the morning. He planned to test that out. The distillery itself was probably interesting too, he supposed. He kept wondering what Cas would have thought about it, though, or what he’d think of the creepy mermaid souvenir in the shop.

Dean popped open of of the rum bottles, and bought a cardboard container full of cooked fish for lunch. He was a sheet or two to the wind by the time he planted his ass on the sandy beach.

The Impala was one of a dozen boats he could see, but there were only a few people in the water. They probably weren’t afraid of mermaids. Maybe they were afraid of sharks, or jellyfish. Maybe that was enough to be afraid of.

“Fuck you ocean,” he spat out. “You’ve always been dangerous, but you’ve never been full of lies.”

Dean looked at his bottle, half empty, and corked it back up. He stayed on the beach until the dark edge of twilight and his grumbling stomach conspired to push him back to his boat.

Dean fumbled his way into the sailboat, and had enough presence of mind to tie the dinghy off when he realized there was another person onboard. In the dark it was hard to tell anything about them, but Dean could tell it wasn’t Castiel.

“Who are you?”

“Where is Castiel?”

“Don’t know. Don’t Care.” Dean pulled the hitch he’d just made tighter than necessary, and it slipped off the cleat horn. “Let’s try that again. Who are you, and how did you get onto my boat?”

Dean unhooked the flashlight he’d used to see his way to the boat in the dark, and shined it at the man as he came nearer. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him, but he chalked it up to rum.

“You know what, I don’t even care how you got here. You need to get the hell off my boat.”

The man took a minute to rake his eyes over Dean head to toe.

“Such a prize. I can see why he didn’t want to share. It’s a shame the spell didn’t work, but we could always try again. Either way, it’s sure to be entertaining.”

_Spell._ And looking for Cas. Dean’s brain slowly caught up with what was going on.

“Cas isn’t here. Go sit on a sea urchin or whatever.”

The flashlight’s beam wavered over its target as the boat rocked slightly, and Dean grasped it tighter. Cas’ evil brother had glowing red eyes, and he was inching closer, and Dean’s reflexes weren’t at their peak. He could still smash the guy over the head with the flashlight, though.

Dean realized he'd been backing away as Cas’ brother approached when his back collided with the Impala's cabin. By then, he was within arm's reach, and Dean froze. A tongue ran over too-sharp teeth, and Dean couldn't breathe.

The low growl of a voice was all the warning Dean had that there was yet another intruder on Dean's deck. They were there to finish what they’d started, and this time, Dean _knew_ , he was well and truly fucked.

Dean’s harasser jerked away, and Dean was able to make out a name in the snarl of a voice.

“Michael.”

_Cas’ voice._

Dean sucked in a deep breath of air, and felt the wall behind him holding him up. Somehow, Cas inserted himself _between_ Dean and Michael, and had Dean’s left wrist in his right hand, and was trying to get Dean to focus on him, on those weird blue eyes that spilled light in the dark. Because Dean’s flashlight was lying on the deck now, a few feet away from him, he could see the light shining across the wood…

Cas’ other hand was on Dean’s face.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“I… how are you here?”

Cas deflated slightly. “Later,” was all he said. Cas turned back to face his brother, keeping a light grip on Dean’s wrist, and holding his body as a shield between Michael and Dean still.

“You can’t have him.”

“And _you’re_ going to stop me?”

Cas’ grip on Dean tightened, and his voice pitched dangerously lower.

“Go home, Michael. You didn’t bring your sycophants with you, you won’t risk your life _in open air_ just for a human, will you?”

Dean could feel Castiel’s ocean-damp skin where it pressed against him, holding him up and shielding him.

“You wouldn’t stand against your own family, for a _human_ , would you Castiel? Choose a monkey over me?” Michael’s words dripped sickly sweet disdain. “Your time on land has affected you.”

Cas said nothing in response, but Dean thought he could see the set of his jaw in the dark. He smiled at the thought of Cas squinting derisively, it seemed like something Cas would do. Everything was going to be okay. Even if Dean thought he was probably only still standing upright because of the wall behind him and Cas’ grip on his arm.

“Are you at least coming home with me, then?” Michael asked.

“No.”

“Hmph. Suit yourself, I suppose. Make sure you clean up this mess when you’re done with it.”

Michael’s red eyes disappeared, followed by a small splash of water.

“Wha-” Dean started,

“Shh,” Cas chastised him. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but please let me make sure you’re okay first.”

Cas was looking at Dean with wide, scared eyes. And then he left Dean’s side to pick up the flashlight, before guiding Dean down into the warmer cabin. He moved quietly about, heating water in the galley and bringing Dean some reconstituted hot chocolate.

Dean stared at the warm thermos in his hand, and then looked up at Castiel.

“I don’t know where to start,” Dean admitted. “How did you--and what did he mean ‘ _clean up this mess_ ’ and, how do you guys have clothes? Is that part of the transformation?”

Not that Cas was wearing much--just his swim trunks. He pressed his palms to the top of his thighs, as if to flatten them on his legs.

“Mine are from a summoning spell, tied to transformation. It was tedious to design, but I thought it would be useful if I were around humans. I expect Michael’s were just a glamour,” Cas said with a raised eyebrow.

“Ew.” Dean wrinkled his nose. And sniffled.

“The warm drink will make you feel better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dean said, without much vitriol. He took a sip, and it did make things seem a little bit less awful.

“Michael expects me to wipe your memory with a spell. It’s what he would do.”

“You can do that?”

Castiel reached across the small table and placed his fingertips over the ink on Dean's chest, barely brushing against the thin fabric of Dean’s shirt.

"I can't; you're protected. Remember? My spells don't do anything but send you into a deep sleep," Cas said. "But I don't have any reason to alter your memories now. My family is perfectly safe from humans.” Cas paused to pull his hand away. “Besides, Michael’s a dick."

“I noticed.” Dean was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. He searched his rapidly emptying mind for something else to ask while he had Cas’ attention, something to keep him talking and _here_. “So if I’m so _protected_ , what was with all the time I spent comatose? D’you have deadly kisses or something?”

Cas tilted his head, pausing before he gave an answer. “Yes, though they weren't intended that way. Your body seems to shut down instead of becoming ensnared by a spell. The first time it happened was the song, wasn’t it?”

“The weird singing? That was real?”

“It’s a spell that tells the boat to ‘be lost,’ and it should've affected you too. But it just put you to sleep instead.” Cas sat back, thinking. “I should’ve known something was wrong, I suppose, because I had to try again. The second was a ‘forget’ spell, the third-” and Cas sounded amused as he said it, “was a protection spell.”

“The kisses.”

Cas nodded.

“Why kisses?” Dean asked, looking at Cas’ lips. _Too bad if they’re poisonous_ , he thought. _They’re really nice lips_.

“Exchange of water. It's less overt than singing, and more fun. Singing is easier for larger spells, that usually require more of us, and it gets tricky out-of-water.”

Dean nodded as if he understood what Cas meant about the singing spells, but he was hung up on the kissing thing still.

“So if you weren't trying to mojo me, we could kiss and I wouldn't pass out?”

Cas swallowed hard. Dean watched the way Cas’ eyes traced the path from Dean’s throat, to his lips, to level with Dean’s eyes. _Well okay, what the hell,_ Dean thought.

“We could find out,” Dean suggested, wiggling his with eyebrows a little. He tried to pretend it was a joke. “What’s the worst that could happen? I get a good night’s sleep for once?”

Dean leaned across the table, daring Cas to be pulled in by his crazy gambit. Dean could taste the salt still on Cas’ lips where they met in the middle.

The kiss lasted longer than necessary. When he pulled back Dean worried his lower lip with his teeth. He was buoyant; adrift on the feeling of Cas’ lips, and his tongue. The stubble on his face. The huge dark pupils in haloed rings of blue, which hadn’t pulled away when Dean had. And then the ground felt solid again, or at least, the boat around him, and his thoughts.

“I guess that made the difference. You were right.” Dean couldn’t quite figure out how to disengage his eyes from Cas’. Part of his wanted to reach across the table and draw Cas in again, and part of him was suddenly _so very tired_ , and he realized that he’d just kissed Cas again after everything. So he slid himself out from behind the table and started making his way to bed. After a step or two, he turned around to look at Cas again.

“I’m dead on my feet. Gonna get some shut-eye. You can stay…” Dean’s voice trailed off as his brain caught up to his mouth. “If you want. Unless you have somewhere else to go.” Dean ran a hand through his hair, and added as an extra afterthought, “I’ll sleep better with an extra set of ears on board after all that, is all.”

Cas nodded. Dean felt himself nodding too, and it felt like things might turn out okay. He took a step back, fumbled against the wall awkwardly, and smiled sheepishly at Cas. Cas still said nothing, just watched Dean with big eyes and his fingers gently hovering over his own lips. Dean turned away before Cas could see the heat on his cheeks, and tried not to think about kisses or _feelings_. Tired as he was, he tried not to think about anything at all.

* * *

 

Dean woke up to the smell of coffee. It made something tighten in him to know that Cas hadn’t left. What had happened the night before was probably best left alone, though, and Dean tried to push it out of his head.

After breakfast, Cas and Dean lay around on the boat all morning. Dean made it through a chapter and a half of one of the _Harry Dresden_ books leftover from a previous trip, and Cas napped in the sun. They didn’t move until Dean’s stomach complained.

“I would kill a man for a bacon double cheeseburger.”

Cas settled one opened eye on Dean.

“Maim?” Dean said, smiling. “So, I’m going to head into town,” he said, leaving it open.

“Okay.”

“You hungry? Need anything? I’m taking the dinghy and you’ll be stuck here if you stay… Or not. I guess you could swim anywhere you wanted to go pretty easily, huh.”

“Yes, I would like to eat. I like cheeseburgers very much,” Cas said, with a smile.

After lunch they wandered their way back to the shoreline. Dean took his phone out of his bag, and pushed the button to call his brother.

“This is Sam,” came a static-y response.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Dean is that you? I’m driving, and it’s raining cats and dogs. I can’t hear shit. Call Charlie.”

“Yeah okay. Drive safe.”

“See you soon.”

Dean started dialing Charlie almost immediately, but Cas had a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going to go check on something,” Cas said as he stripped off his shirt and set it next to Dean’s bag.

Dean forced down the urge to reach up and touch the gill-marks on Cas’ naked side.

“Have fun!”

Once Cas disappeared beneath the waves, Dean went back to getting ahold of Charlie.

Charlie gave Dean Sam’s flight information.

“But he said he’d rent a little motorboat, so you’ll probably see him before any of us talk again.”

“Thanks Charlie, you’re the best.”

“Yep. Take care of yourself okay? Get me a cool souvenir.”

“Already started scoping out the shops for one. Bye Charlie!”

“Bye Dean.”

Dean waited a few minutes to see if Cas would surface, shrugged, and went to browse the little gift shops again. He found an appropriately cheesy painted shell with googly eyes to give to Charlie, and made his way back to the Impala.

Everything was quiet onboard. He put his electronics, Charlie’s souvenir, and Cas’ shirt away, and got out the supplies to make popcorn.

There was no point in planning anything until Sam was around tomorrow, and Cas was who-knows-where by now, so Dean got out his half-empty bottle of rum to go with his popcorn.

Dean was sitting on the bow of the boat with his feet dangling over the side when Cas popped a head up out of the water.

“Hey stranger,” Dean said.

Cas spit out a mouthful of water, and grinned a mouthful of sharp teeth.

“Okay that’s a little weird.”

“Sorry,” Cas said, lowering himself further into the waves.

“Nah, it’s cool, just, I wasn’t expecting it. There’s all sorts of boat upkeep that’d be easier to do if I could breathe underwater.”

“Like cleaning off barnacles?” Cas asked.

Dean made a face. “It’s not that bad is it?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know, what’s bad?”

Dean shook his head.

“If you come up here you can help me finish this bottle of rum.” Dean had gone slowly, there was still plenty left. He had a pleasant buzz going, and it would be more fun to share. “Then I can start teaching you about maintenance.”

Cas climbed aboard in his magically-summoned swim shorts, and joined Dean with a bottle of water.

“I’ll trade you.”

Dean frowned, and took the water.

“Dehydration is bad for you, and you’ve been sick.”

“Yeah--okay, fine.” Dean took an overly dramatic sip of water, and coughed as it went down the wrong pipes. When he recovered, he asked, “So why did you come back?”

Cas looked out at the ocean, bringing their shoulders fully into contact. Dean leaned into it.

“Michael came after you,” Cas said, finally.

“Yeah, but you chased him off.”

“He could come back, there’s nothing to stop him. You’re not fully recovered yet--” Cas paused when Dean scoffed, “--and I feel better knowing I can watch over you. I set up a perimeter spell, and nothing untoward has disturbed it.”

“When did you do that?” Dean asked, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what _that_ was.

“Shortly after we arrived.”

“That’s how you knew Michael was here, huh.”

“Yes. I should’ve warned you. I thought he might follow.”

Dean took another sip from his bottle, and frowned after he realized it was water now and not rum.

“I wouldn’t have listened,” Dean said.

“No, that’s true,” Cas agreed.

Cas steadied himself with an arm behind Dean. They’d sat like this before, Dean thought. He enjoyed the firm pressure and strength of Cas on his side, holding him up. As clouds rolled in and the sky dimmed, they sat in silence.

“Dean,” Cas said quietly, “Dean, you’re falling asleep.”

“Huh?”

“You should sleep, but not here.”

“Oh, right,” Dean said blearily. Cas helped him up, shooing him towards the cabin.

Before heading to his berth, Dean leaned out to look at Cas one more time. Dean thought Cas’ attention would be on the dark expanse of water. Instead, Cas was watching him. In the fading light, Dean could pick out the supernatural glow of Cas’ eyes easily. He couldn’t look away, but Cas didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so either.

“Did you need something?” Cas asked.

“Do I get a good night kiss?” The words left Dean’s mouth before he knew they were even there.

Cas opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Dean almost cursed himself for bringing it up, it was a stupid thing to say out loud. He ducked down and crawled into his berth before Cas could say anything else.

Cas followed him though, with stormy eyes and furrowed eyebrows. He walked over to where Dean stretched himself out, and pulled the covers up to tuck Dean in. He leaned over and kissed Dean’s forehead.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas said just before he disappeared up the ladder.

Dean’s heart turned over in his chest when Cas said his name.

He snuck a hand out of his covers to touch the place Cas’ lips had been. Cas’ chapped lips had been cool on his forehead. Dean buried his smiling face into his pillow.

* * *

 

Cas and Sam were chatting over coffee when Dean got up. Dean didn’t even make it as far as his own cup before Sam enveloped Dean into a fierce hug.

“I thought you were dead, you son of a bitch.” Sam's voice cracked with anger, fear, emotions still too raw, and Dean had to ignore the tightness in his own chest.

He pushed down tears to respond. He smiled as broadly as he could, pushing his face too far.

“I'm awesome at sailing. You really have so little faith in me?”

“Dean…” Cas started, and Dean realized that he couldn’t fool either of them. But he couldn’t quite drop the act, either.

“So what has Cas told you so far?” Dean asked. Cas poured coffee from a large thermos into Dean’s cup.

“You got lost, everything stopped working, you almost drowned, he pulled you on board and got you back here.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas.

Cas nodded, imperceptibly. “You should tell him.”

Tell Sam? Sam knew that sea monsters were real. They’d gotten tattoos to prove it. But believing something might be true just because you couldn’t prove wrong was one thing. Believing something was true because someone said so? That was different. People don’t believe you’ve actually _seen_ anything.

Then again, maybe...

“You remember that night we saw the dugongs in Indonesia?”

They didn't talk about it. Dad had explained how there was no such thing as fish people, and mermaids were just a myth. _Keep your eyes open, there's plenty of real stuff out there to kill you without made up stories._ Dad had explained manatees and dugongs, their stupidity leading to their extinction. It'd ended as a lesson in not being lazy and always keeping your eyes open--everything was like that.

Sam had always insisted they were people, though. Dean had only seen a pair of fins, and they hadn't looked like manatees, but they hadn't looked like anything else either. And Dad was always right.

They hadn't looked like anything--that was--until Dean had seen Cas in the ocean that day.

Sam nodded, frowning.

“I think you--I think _we_ saw mermaids.”

Sam nodded, “You and Cas?”

“Me and you. And me and Cas. I mean, because we did, I think that's what we saw when we were kids.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, so mermaids.” Sam scratched his sternum, and flattened his hand out over the spot his tattoo matching Dean's was.

“It's possible that they're the reason we had trouble with the equipment. Cas thinks so, at least.”

“And everything works fine now?”

“Yeah. Baby's good as the day she was christened. I need a few days, but I can sail her back. You didn't need to come, but an extra hand getting home would be good.”

“And Cas?”

“I never planned on a return trip…” Cas said. And frowned.

“I'm still missing something,” said Sam.

“Cas planned to meet up with family. Stuff got complicated. Things didn't work out.”

“The weird coordinates were a meetup location,” Sam said, putting two and two together.

“Yeah, but instead, he had to save me from drowning and drag my hypothermic ass to land.”

Sam looks at Cas appraisingly. “You got a drowning man back onboard alone? That’s amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without Dean, it means a lot to me that you saved his life. Thank you, Castiel.”

Cas blushed a little, and Dean wondered if his cheeks were any warmer like that than normal.

“Do you need a ride back to Florida?” Sam asked, and Dean’s daydreams of touching Cas’ face fractured. They were going home, and Cas? He had bigger and better things to do. A whole world of oceans and lands to explore, and like he’d said--he was more than capable of doing so on his own.

“No, thank you. I'll figure things out. I don't want to inconvenience Dean any further. I stayed to watch over him, because drowning is a horrible experience, but I'm glad you're here now. I can leave knowing Dean will be all right.”

Sam asked a few more questions about the trip, and Dean gave the conversation half his attention. The rest was occupied with thoughts of Castiel.

Eyes like the sky and lips like the rough water and all the power of the wind: Cas was just as magnificent as the ocean, just as beautiful, and just as impossible to petition. Dean could, maybe, ask him to stay, but he might as well ask the ocean to sit in a jar.

Eventually Sam couldn’t hold the conversation alone anymore, and Cas suggested he should leave.

“We should look into supplies, too,” Sam suggested. Dean and Cas said their awkward goodbyes on the pier while Sam tied up his rented motorboat, and Cas walked away.

“You’re being awful quiet,” Sam said.

“Mm-hmm,” Dean responded.

“So what do you think--food and water? Anything else you want?” Sam asked.

“Sammy,” Dean started, looking at his brother. He turned back to look at Cas. “I don’t want to be alone,” he said, barely audible over the ocean.

“Did you try asking him to stay? You’re kinda staring so hard you’re gonna wear holes in his ass.”

“I…” Dean started. Stopped. Kept watching Cas.

Sam turned to give him a look.

♒♒♒

Sam’s words fade behind him as Dean tears off after Cas.

Dean reaches Cas at high speed and they both lose their balance, toppling off the dock into the ocean.

For a moment, Dean feels like he's drowning again, but strong hands pull him up. They're in shallow water, and Cas pulls Dean to his feet.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay, Dean?” They speak at the same time.

Dean takes a deep breath, holds onto Cas to keep him from leaving. Or to keep from falling into the water again.

Cas waits.

Dean says, “I can't sail alone,” and he means it. He's capable, but he doesn't want to. And he's never admitted that out loud, even to Sam. He thinks Sam knows though.

“And you--wait, you're not going to go all fish-tail if we stand here in the water right?” Dean glances around for the first time, setting Sam above them looking down at the spectacle of two dressed men, holding onto each other in three feet of water. There's a few people on shore, who lose interest when he waves at them to let them know they're fine.

“Switching between legs and a trail requires much more complicated magic than _a little water_ , Dean. I'm fine, but are you-”

Dean forgets what he was going to say and kisses Cas again. He should have led with that, maybe. _Too late now,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully.

“Cas, I need you. I mean, you need a job, right? I need a crew. You're great at sailing, and your family kinda sucks but I saw you, on the water. You don't want a job at another aquarium, Cas. Stay, please.” Dean looks at Cas, hopeful, before adding, “If you want to.”

“Dean,” Cas says, shaking his head, “I…”

Dean wants to kiss him again. Wants to hold on so tight he'll never leave. Pushes all of the disappointment down, and steps back.

“Okay,” he says, instead.

He turns around, and walks soggily to the beach.

“Dean,” Cas says, from nearer than Dean expected.

Dean turns around around, feeling dry sand stuck to his his damp feet.

“It’s okay, I get it. I shouldn’t have asked,” Dean says, before Cas can apologize.

He’s been taking care of Dean this whole time, and Dean just asked him to stick around as if he’s not some superpowered magical water monster. He can see the Impala in the harbor, rocking peacefully on the waves.

“I’d like to sail with you, Dean.”

Dean looks back at Cas. At Cas’ bright blue, hopeful eyes.

“What about kissing? Is that okay too?”

“I’d like to do that, too,” Cas says, and smiles as wide as Dean--finally. Dean relaxes, and Cas brings a hand up to the nape of Dean’s neck to pull him in close.

Later, he’ll ask Cas what else lurks in the depths of the ocean. Later, they’ll decide where they want to go, and they’ll talk about boat deliveries and charters and tourists and sailing. Later, Dean will convince Sam to take a plane home, because he’s okay--and Sam will ask Cas more about mermaids, because he might have overheard more than they thought from the pier.

For now, Dean ignores everything but the feeling of sand in his toes and Cas in his arms, and the siren song of the ocean.

As long as sirens aren’t a real thing too. He’ll have to ask Cas about that.


End file.
